The Darkest Night
by A Girl In NYC
Summary: Jacqueline is Javert's daughter. In the turbulence of the Paris Uprising, she meets Enjolras. Will she abandon the man who raised her and her social status to join the rebellion for the man she loves? Enjolras/OC. Movie-verse.
1. Un

**Un**

Javert gently kicked the sides of his horse, riding through the dirty streets of Paris.

It was late, the clock tower stroking midnight somewhere in the distance, the church bell giving off a single chime. Patrolling the streets for vermin and criminals was a regular pastime for the inspector, and he secretly grew tired of seeing poor citizens in squalor, teeth missing, torn clothing. Prostitutes littered the streets as he travelled.

The infamously ruthless police officer had a stern, strict expression on his masculine face. He was tired at this hour of the night, and was ordered to investigate a disturbance in the east part of Paris. Two of his men followed him, galloping behind him loyally.

The building was repulsive, Javert came to realize, as he and his men approached it. The architecture of it was beautiful, yes, but it was run-down. A cat screeched in an alleyway somewhere in the distance of the night. Javert scrunched his nose in disgust, looking around him. He got of his horse, his men doing the same. The cold December air in Paris made him frigid to the bone, chilling him up his spine.

Snow fell from the night sky in heavy bundles, Javert's boots making imprints in the snow as he approached the building. The wind sent a chill through him, and he wondered what awful things he would find inside the building. He'd been told that there was gunshots, and yelling. That was never positive report, and Javert would've rather been doing anything at the moment other than seeing bloodshed.

He walked up the front steps of the Paris apartment.

He knocked on the door with his leather gloved hand, but to his surprise, the wooden door easily opened with a creak for him. He pushed the door a bit farther and walked into the apartment.

The old, faded pink wallpaper in the room was peeling. Pictures on the wall had their glass broken or had fallen to the floor and shattered. The apartment was eerily silent, so quiet that for some reason, Javert was afraid to make any noise. As he looked around, he was repulsed.

There was blood in the front room of the apartment, smeared on the floor. Javert stepped in it, walking through the small room to the staircase, which was wooden and rickety. There, halfway up the stairs, he saw a haggard young woman, dead. She had pale blond hair and blood was smeared on her revealing, green inexpensive dress—Javert guessed she was a prostitute, but he wasn't sure—mainly on the abdomen.

A messy bullet wound resided there, flesh torn and ripped, blood smeared all over her, her eyes wide open.

Javert left his men to search the downstairs of the run-down apartment. He walked past the corpse on the stairs, going to the upstairs single room. The furniture was thrown and ransacked, tables and chairs flipped, the window on the far wall wide open, letting in freezing December air and heavy snow. The snow was beginning to coat the hardwood floors.

Javert went to the window. He saw the view of Notre Dame, and then looked out at the night, looking up at the stars.

He heard a noise behind him, a ruffling. Javert knit his eyebrows together in confusion, looking over his shoulder at the ransacked room. He saw nothing, but shut the window in front of him, shutting out the winter winds. His eyes scanned the room, and he noted that there was still furniture that hadn't been turned over. Nevertheless, the drawers were pulled all the way out and emptied.

The woman in the staircase had tried to stop the Parisian thieves that had robbed her home, and failed. It was a shame, really, that their was crime in Paris like this, Javert concluded. He'd sort out the report with the Court and move onto the next case, just as he always did.

This time it would not be so easy.

He turned to walk back down the staircase and out of the repulsive apartment, but was immediately stopped at the sound of the ruffling again. Javert turned around, looking at the single room again. There was no one there, not that he could see, at least. Nevertheless, he took a few steps back into the room, his boots clunking on the hardwood floors. He looked again, seeing nothing.

Until his eyes caught a sheet moving that was draped over a bassinet. Under the bassinet and the sheet, a face of a young girl poked out. She couldn't have been more than two and a half years old. She had ringlets of honey blonde hair and hazel eyes. She looked terrified, and stared at Javert in fear.

Javert gaped at her, staring at the little thing like he'd never seen a child before. He thought she looked freezing and in pure fear; she trembled and looked at him with wide eyes, like she was expecting him to strike her. They looked at each other for a little while longer, and he inhaled.

He slowly made his way to the other side of the room, to the bassinet by the window.

He took off his hat, bowed a little, and kneeled down to the little girl's eye level. She gripped the side of the sheet in fear and almost backed away from him, but looked into his gentle eyes and seemed to change her mind. Javert was no expert with children, but he thought he had an idea of how to treat one. He gave her a a small, gentle smile.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," He said, kissing her small hand.

"Bonjour, monsieur." She responded, trembling, her red-rimmed eyes filled with tears.

"What's your name, darling?" He asked gently, knitting his eyebrows together in pity.

"Jacqueline." She said, looking up into his gentle eyes.

"I'm Javert," He replied, and added softly, "Will you come out, Jacqueline? Please, darling?"

He reached his hand out for her, but doubted the little thing would accept it. To his surprise, she put her small hand in his much larger one. She looked at him with curiousity and what Javert thought was hope as she crawled out from the under the bassinet. Javert remained kneeling on her eye level, to maintain comfort and limit his intimidation, which he knew he was so good at. He didn't want to frighten her anymore.

She had lived through the apartment's robbery and her mother's murder.

He looked at her and suddenly realized how beautiful this little girl was. She was small and frail with a bruise under her right cheekbone, and a bit dirty, yes, but her hair and eyes made up for it. She looked at him with those frightened, wide hazel eyes, and Javert instantly felt saddened by this little orphan. She was extremely gentle and polite, and Javert was surprised she came out from under the bassinet so easily and without a fuss.

She put both of her hands on his knees as he crouched in front of her.

"Where's Mom?" She choked out, silent tears streaking down her cheeks. Javert looked at her with sadness, in his mind wondering how to tell this little thing that her mother was murdered in the same house as her while she hid. Javert reached up and brushed the tear away on her right cheek with his thumb. She looked at him, still trembling and clearly scared.

"Inspector—"

Two of Javert's soldiers stood at the top of the staircase, but stopped when they saw a little girl standing there with him. Javert didn't tear away from Jacqueline, his eyes not leaving hers. He held up a black, leather-clad palm to the two soldiers to dismiss them, who nodded and went back down the stairs, their boots clunking as they went, leaving Javert to deal with the situation.

"Your mother is with the Lord," Javert said softly. "I'm here to help you."

Jacqueline looked at the inspector. Javert knew she wouldn't really understand what had happened, she was far too young. She was still an infant in his eyes. He didn't expect to find this child, or any child for that matter, tonight. His eyes met hers, and he was surprised when she threw herself into him and hugged him. Her hot, wet tears hit his navy blue uniform as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. He didn't quite know what to do first, but after a moment he put his arms around her and caged her in his arms to comfort her.

"Merci beaucoup, Javert." She said, but her little voice was muffled in the crook of his neck.

Javert did not respond. He put his hand on the back of her head. He felt pity for this little girl, who knew nothing of what had happened. She was so innocent, so naive, so young. Beautiful. Her eyes had seen nothing of the crimes of the world. She was so fragile and quiet. So innocent. Javert quietly kept her in his arms and stood up. She kept her head in the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around him. Javert held the little girl close to him, carefully carrying her.

He knew right in that moment, as he cradled the vulnerable little girl, that he was going to raise her.

**Reviews would be awesome!**


	2. Deux

****_Thank you so much for the positive feedback for chapter one. It's movie verse, so I'm using Aaron Tveit as Enjolras and Russell Crowe as Javert. I loved the film and I've seen the musical/stage productions at least twice, so I thought it would be interesting to write about Javert having a daughter. Thanks again for your feedback!_

**Deux**

At the age of six, Jacqueline didn't remember her mother.

She didn't remember when her and Javert met. Like every infant, the early childhood memories faded and she saw Javert as her blood-related father, and called him such.

She was growing up fast. Too fast, for Javert, at least. She was almost to his waist now, and was maturing mentally and physically. While he did his job as inspector and roamed the streets of Paris with his men, Jacqueline would either be at school or she staying with the Thenardiers during the day, an odd couple and their daughter, Eponine. Javert didn't care much for the Thenardiers, but he knew Jacqueline liked being with Eponine. Javert wished he did not have to leave Jacqueline while he was patrolling Paris, but it was his job, after all.

Javert rode his horse through a brick alleyway while riding through the small French town of Montfrermeil, where the Thenardiers kept an inn that was regularly populated with drunks and people of lesser social status.

Clad in his navy blue uniform and black hat, Javert confidently rode his horse to the town square, snow coating the whole town, brimming rooftops as twilight settled in the sky. A few flurries flew past Javert as he stopped his horse at the front of the Thenardier's inn. It was loud and rowdy as usual, and Javert and his men had been called there a few times in the past. He was a bit repulsed by the two innkeepers, but he tried to ignore it, for they did watch Jacqueline during the day.

Once she heard Javert's horse approach, Jacqueline was running out into the snow to him, and Javert instantly climbed off his horse to greet her. He crouched down to her level. She grinned at him innocently and leapt into him, practically throwing herself into him. She hugged him tight, and Javert kissed her cheek.

"How was your day, darling?" He asked, his gentle eyes looking at her curiously.

"Good," Jacqueline responded, her little hands on the shoulder pads of his police inspector uniform. He gave her a small smile, "Come here." He caught her by her torso and hoisted her small body up, standing up and holding her against his right hip. He kissed her cheek, and she hooked her arms around his neck. Javert carried her to his horse and hoisted the two of them up.

He looked to the inn before kicking his horse's sides, and saw a large, load party going on. The hosts stuck out like a sore thumb.

Monsieur Thenardier was a tall, slender man in his thirties with reddish hair on his head and facial hair. He was disheveled, with odd clothing and an odd personality to match. Beside him was Madame Thenardier, as odd as her husband.

Her blond hair was wild and had branches with berries sticking out in different directions. Her makeup was heavily done and she wore a vibrant dress. Their little girl, Eponine, was standing in the middle of her parents and the party.

If it wasn't for Eponine and Jacqueline's close friendship, Javert never would've let Jacqueline stay there during the day. But it was the best he could think of. At least she wasn't lonely.

Jacqueline sat in front of Javert as they rode back to the home in which they lived.

Their home was a two-story, tall and thin house near Notre Dame. Ivy covered the majority of the home except for the windows and the large wooden door in the front. Javert thought it was a good area to raise Jacqueline, not too far from Montfrermeil. Javert climbed off his horse, and picked up Jacqueline to bring her inside from the impending snow.

He carried her inside and to her bedroom. It was late, later than when Javert usually put Jacqueline to bed. She was yawning and he knew that she was exhausted from the day spent at the Thenardiers. She kept her head on his shoulder as they walked through the house. Javert took off his hat and pulled his sword out and placed it by the door, careful as to not make Jacqueline stir. He walked up the stairs of their Parisian apartment, his uniform boots clunking up the stairs as he walked.

The halls were lit by candles, their flames dancing in the air. Javert went into Jacqueline's bedroom and put her down gently under the covers of the bed. She was practically asleep by the time he did so. Javert brushed the strands of blond hair out of her eyes and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, darling." He murmured quietly.

She opened her eyes and looked up at Javert. She murmured quietly, "Goodnight, Dad."

Javert smiled a little, going to the doorway. He looked in at her, the little girl he had found four years ago, dirtied and crying. Her breathing was even and calm, as she slept in the bed, away from the cold December weather and the crimes of the world. He was so satisfied to know that she wouldn't be raised in an orphanage until she was eighteen. And, that with him raising her, she would be in a better social and economic status.

He blew out the candle by the doorway after one more look at the little girl.

He walked down the hallway to his own room. Javert looked to the mirror once in his room, with two gold candlesticks on either side, their flames flickering. Javert looked at the cross on the wall. He looked back into the mirror, then walked out to the balcony outside. He stood on the landing of the building, looking at Notre Dame and the stars above in the winter sky.

He prayed he'd capture Jean Valjean.

* * *

"Dad, why? Why do I have to go to this?" Jacqueline groaned, looking at Javert with a plea in her eyes, walking down the cobblestone steps of their home to the carriage that awaited her. Javert stopped, and Jacqueline did too.

Javert cocked his head to the side and gave her a knowing look, a smug smile on his face. "You're my daughter, Jacqueline, and I said so."

"That's _not_ a good reason." Jacqueline muttered, unsatisfied. Javert kissed her cheek.

"Jacqueline, it's just a dinner. You'll socialize with my colleagues. You always hate doing it. What's wrong with it?" Javert asked her, walking her to the carriage.

"The parties they throw are _so_ boring and trite. Where's the excitement? Where's the fun in them? The people are awful too, Dad. I'm not like them, and you aren't really, either." She replied, arching her eyebrows at him, "I don't believe in a thing they say. Their political views are awfully and they don't even acknowledge the less fortunate..."

Javert stopped instantly and looked at her, but a hand on her shoulder, his expression serious. "You aren't siding with those_ schoolboys_, are you?"

But before Jacqueline could answer, four of Javert's men came riding in on horseback. "Inspector Javert!" One of the soldiers cried, "There's trouble in the square. Fight's going on, sir. Some beggars starting a quarrel."

Javert looked at Jacqueline, cupping a hand to her right cheek,"We're going to talk about this later, young lady. For now, get in the carriage and I'll meet you in a little while. And _try_ to be nice, Jacqueline." He hastily walked away from her and to his horse.

"Dad..." Jacqueline attempted, but Javert was already on his horse and leading his men away, down to the square in Paris. She rolled her eyes. His reputation of ruthlessness and cruelness on criminals was infamous in Paris, and many feared him. Being known as Javert's daughter had its ups and downs, in Jacqueline's eyes.

Nevertheless, she loved him more than anything. He raised her. He taught her everything he knew. He kissed her when she cried and held her when she needed him. He was always there for her, no matter what. Jacqueline was raised in higher society, and she was thankful for what she had. But she never really felt like she fit in with the people her and her father associated with. She knew she was from the "gutter", and that Javert had saved her from it. She knew Javert was born in a prison, and was originally from the "gutter", as he had once said, but their current high social status wasn't something Jacqueline really liked.

She never felt like she fit in.

A valet helped her into the carriage. Jacqueline sighed, pressing her forehead against the window as the carriage began going. She looked out to the streets of Paris, the beautiful but turbulent city.

"_Viva la France_!"

Jacqueline heard this over and over, the chant becoming louder. She looked out the window of the carriage she was in, seeing a massive crowd of students. There were two of them leading the protest, but only one she recognized.

Marius Pontmercy, a classmate and friend of hers. Eponine fancied him, she knew, and saw her in the crowd as well. Jacqueline looked at the soldier across from her, one of her father's men who sometimes watched her. She scoffed mentally at this soldier. She didn't need to be _watched_. She didn't need to be looked after.

Jacqueline was eighteen now. She'd been raised to be a polite young woman, and gentle. She was, for the most part. But she was over protected by her father. This made Jacqueline feel controlled, and at any chance she got, she tried to break free.

She'd grown to be exactly what Javert predicted her to be. She had long blond hair, and curious hazel eyes. She was of normal body type, but was always forced to squeeze into corset dresses that drove her nuts. Being the daughter of the Parisian police inspector wasn't the easiest thing to do. She constantly had to be polite and proper, and she hated it. Javert knew that wasn't what she really was like. The carriage stopped due to the crowds of people, and the protesters.

Jacqueline saw this as an opportunity.

She grinned slyly at the soldier across from her. She quickly opened the door of the carriage and stepped out of it, scampering off towards the protest. Javert's soldier that was watching her realized what she was doing and quickly got up and shouted after her, "Mademoiselle! Come back here!"

She wanted to be with those schoolboys. She believed the people of Paris were treated as slaves. She agreed with them. She wanted to join the protests.

No matter her social status.

She came into the crowd and was greeted by Eponine with a hug. Eponine was a beautiful girl, but as the years went by, the Thenardier family had become poor. Her parents begged on the streets, and Eponine was no longer close with either of her parents. She wore a ragged dark green dress and her expression was haggard. Eponine and her father were no longer close like they were when Eponine and Jacqueline were children, when they spent everyday at the Thenardiers' inn.

Jacqueline was thankful that her and Javert were so close, practically attached at the hip.

"What's going on?" Jacqueline shouted above the noise of the crowd her and Eponine were in. Eponine smiled.

"We're protesting. The people of Paris shouldn't be treated as slaves any longer." Eponine explained, and then smirked at her, "Won't your father kill you if he finds out you're here, Jacqueline?"

"Probably." She replied miserably.

Before either of the girls could say another word, police were charging the area, and the protestors were scattering. Marius and the other boy leapt off the platform. To Jacqueline's advantage, Javert wasn't there to see her at the protest. She could only imagine the trouble she would've been in if that had happened. Everyone was scattering. Eponine ran off with Marius in the direction of the square.

"Who's this? Another higher-up trying to stop us from protesting?"

Jacqueline turned, and had a hand on her wrist. She looked to see who was gripping her wrist. It was the boy who had been on the platform with Marius. Jacqueline looked at him and noticed right away that he was quite handsome, but had much hate in his brown eyes. He had dirty blonde, almost curly hair. He wore a red vest and had a vengeful look on his face. He looked Jacqueline up and down, noting her expensive clothes.

He _swore_ he'd seen her around Paris before.

"No." Jacqueline replied among the crowd, "No, no. Never. I agree with you. The people of Paris are oppressed. _We're_ oppressed."

The young man's face slowly changed. "That's, uh...surprising. I guess I've never met a rich girl who sees hersef as a poor one."

Jacqueline looked at him with an eyebrow arched and a small smile.

"I'm rambling. I'm Enjolras. Sorry for my assumption. Will you come protest with us tomorrow, to our meeting?" He asked.

"Where?" Jacqueline replied.

Enjolras smirked at her. "The wine shop."

"I guess I could come, if _higher-ups_ are allowed, that is." Jacqueline teased, smiling at him.

He laughed a little at her reply, and said, "Only you."

Jacqueline looked down and smiled, then looked up at him. Before she could say anything else, Javert soldier was calling to her to come back to the carriage, and he didn't seem or look happy. She could only imagine how angry Javert would be when he found out about this afternoon.

"I have to go. It was nice meeting you!" Jacqueline called over her shoulder hurriedly, beginning to run back to the carriage.

"Mademoiselle! I don't even know your name!" Enjolras called after her. She stopped and looked back at him, and smiled.

"Jacqueline." She breathed, and Enjolras smiled back at her. She turned and ran back to the carriage, where the soldier was scolding her as she got back in. Enjolras watched after her.

He repeated to himself quietly, "_Jacqueline_."

**Reviews would be ****awesome!**


	3. Trois

_Thank you for the lovely reviews! I'm so happy you like Jacqueline!  
I hope I'm portraying her and Javert's relationship well, as well as her and Enjolras's.  
Thank you again!_

**Trois**

"Why did you go to the protests, Jacqueline? To those, those _schoolboys_! I've raised you better! You were to _not_ leave the carriage. Those rebels are nothing but trouble. Running around and crowding the streets like rats."

Jacqueline winced at every insulting statement Javert said. It was the next night, cold and starry. She sat on her bed, watching as he paced back in forth in her room, lecturing her ear off. She was in serious trouble, she knew, all because of that jerk of a soldier who told on her. She bit her lip and looked up at her father, knowing there was no talking him out of this one.

She knew Javert was relentless, in every aspect of his life. Not just in discipling her.

"I just..." Jacqueline ran a hand through her pale blond hair in frustration, trying to find the right things to say. "I'm friends with them. I have friends in the protests. I feel like I'm the only student who's not in them. And I believe in what they're saying, Dad. I mean, I'm from where they're from, aren't I?"

Javert glared at her. "That's rebellious talk, Jacqueline. You realize that's against everything I've taught you and raised you to be?"

Jacqueline sadly smiled at Javert, standing up and standing close to him. He watched her, his gentle eyes looking at her heart-shaped face. The hazel eyes that he remembered seeing for the first time sixteen years ago, scared and sad, looked up at him with gentleness and understanding. Her eyes was his weakness. They were so sad, yet understanding. Like she understood every horror of the world.

"Dad," She said softly, looking up into his eyes, "I love you, more than anything. You've given me everything and more. You've clothed me, sheltered me, fed me. You've given me protection and love. So I say this with the most love and respect I can give. I'm not that little girl you found shivering and trembling in a ransacked apartment anymore. I have beliefs and ideas, and I believe that the people of Paris deserve better than what they are given. They're treated like slaves."

Javert brushed her hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. He sighed, and looked down at her, "Darling, you will not be apart of the protests."

Jacqueline backed away from him a little, annoyed. "Why? Why can't I have my own say? I'm from where they're from! I'm one of them! And you are _too_!"

"We're not talking about this anymore, Jacqueline. You know my wishes, and you will obey them. I'm doing this for your protection. I'm restricting you because I love you. Those protests mean nothing. Those barricades will mean nothing, no matter how high they make them. Those boys will _die_!"

Tears rimmed Jacqueline's eyes. She didn't like crying, or rather, she didn't like crying in front of people. She bit her lip a wiped her glassy eyes with the back of her hand. She thought of Enjolras, the handsome boy she'd met among the chaos in the square. The two of them, dumbstruck as they had looked at each other. The smile that they had exchanged once he realized she supported his beliefs. He was so handsome, even those brown, vengeful eyes. She'd met him once, but felt so much for him.

At the same time, Enjolras stood at the window at the ABC Cafe, thinking about her. He'd never met a girl like that. Of high social status, but believed in the lower class of Paris and the beautiful people there who strived for a revolution. He couldn't stop thinking of her, the way she looked down then up at him, so genuinely happy. He remembered seeing a soldier calling her back and yelling at her. Was she controlled? Was she restricted? Enjolras knew that he would help bring her out of the cage he knew she lived in.

On the other side of Paris, a tear streaked down Jacqueline's cheek when she thought of him in harm's way of the Parisian police.

"Why are you so _ruthless_?" Jacqueline cried, losing her temper. "Why are you always relentless? Why can't anyone else's beliefs matter to you? It's_ always_ the law, the law is _always_ the right thing. What if it isn't? What if everything you think is right is wrong? Those boys aren't bad, they're standing up for what they believe in. You're so hateful of them, Dad. Give them a chance. Don't you see that to love another person is to see the face of God?"

Jacqueline and Javert rarely—if ever—argued.

"You are not to meet up with them. Not again, Jacqueline. Do you understand me?" Javert snapped. "I'm doing this to protect you. Do you think I want to see you lying dead in the street? Do see my daughter shot for what she believes in?"

Despite what he was saying, Javert felt guilt when he saw her cry, and for being the reason she cried. He remembered when everything was simple, and Jacqueline was younger and didn't worry about protests, or crime, or death. She was innocent and pure. She knew the horrors of Paris. Javert was so unbelievably proud of the beautiful young woman she'd grown to be, but he seriously worried if she would do something that would put pain in both their lives.

Jacqueline didn't respond, she wiped the tears away from her eyes. She sat back down on her bed.

"I just—" Javert lowered his voice from yelling to soft, "I just don't know what would happen if I lost you. I don't know what I would do."

Jacqueline looked up at her guardian with red-rimmed hazel eyes, glassed over and vulnerable. Javert reached his hand out to her, doubting she would take it. Just as he did the night they met, when she was trembling, alone, under the bassinet. She blinked up at him, her lashes thick and wet from the tears. She sniffled quietly and put her small hand in his, and stood.

She caught Javert off-guard when she quickly hugged him. She wrapped her arms around the man that had raised her, held her, comforted her, and kissed her when she cried. Javert sighed, putting his chin on her head.

Jacqueline hated fighting with him. Not only was it hard to yell at those gentle, kind eyes, but she couldn't ever keep up a fight with Javert. He was too relentless, too calm, and would always seem to win the argument.

* * *

The church clock struck midnight, and the bells of Notre Dame rang in the distance of the night. Jacqueline smiled to herself as she heard the beautiful sound. Javert had gone on watch with his men after Jacqueline and his argument. She was grateful that he was in the east end of Paris tonight rather than in the square. She was sneaking out, walking hurriedly on bare feet on the cobblestone streets, the stars above glittering in the velvet black sky. The ABC Cafe lay ahead, the wine shop above.

Enjolras looked out the large bay window on the far side of the room, which looked out to the cobblestone streets of the beautiful city of Paris. The ABC Cafe was crowded with riled up, excited students, young men who were ready to stand up for their beliefs, for their freedom, and their rights. For their revolution. He waited for the girl he'd met, Jacqueline. He knew nothing about her, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. He felt emotional about her, while what he knew should have been on his mind soley was the revolution.

But he felt so much for her, yet he knew so little. Nevertheless, he trusted himself, both his heart and his head.

_What if she isn't coming? Will we ever meet again? _Enjolras thought.

Her clothes were more expensive than anything he owned—she was well-groomed, and clearly of a higher class than he.

Yet, she supported him and his cause without question. He knew nothing about her, but prayed she would come to the meeting. His heart thumped in his chest, throbbing close to his ribcage in anxiety and anticipation. In that moment, he saw a figure walking hurriedly down the dark cobblestone streets by themselves, quickly making their way to the ABC Cafe.

While the crowd of students discussed the revolution and talked between themselves, Enjolras quickly walked to the stairs and climbed downstairs, to the open room that led out to the street. His heart pounded, and he ran a hand through his dirty blond, slightly curly hair. He stood at the second stair of the staircase, holding his breath. Jacqueline emerged from the darkness of the cold night. He smiled at her as she approached him, and she stopped before him by the stair. He reached down, kissing her hand.

"Enjolras!" She said, giving him a warm smile, hugging him.

"Jacqueline!" He replied, "I didn't think you were going to come."

"I'm here." Jacqueline reassured him, putting a gentle hand to the side of his face. He embraced her, and Jacqueline held Enjolras.

She retreated from the embrace and looked at him, searching his eyes. He did the same. Both a little scared and neither one prepared, they kissed, gently and softly. Enjolras put his hand on the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. Nevertheless, the kiss was gentle, kind.

They released each other, and Jacqueline looked up at the boy who accepted her for not only her social status, but her beliefs. He didn't judge her, and he looked at her like he'd never lived before that very moment. He didn't restrict her, he offered her options. He gave her a small smile, the most genuine and loving smile that Jacqueline was ever given. She'd never felt like that, about anyone.

He reached a hand out to her, just as Javert did, and asked, "At the barricades of freedom, when our ranks begin to form, will you take your place with me?"

"My place is here." Jacqueline said quietly, eyes glassed over, a small smile on her face, "I fight with you."

She slipped her hand in his, and sealed her fate.

**Reviews would be awesome!**


	4. Quatre

_Thanks for the reviews! I've added some little lyrics to this chapter from a few songs...  
In those sentences, try to imagine the characters singing it.  
Thanks again, I hope you're liking Jacqueline's character and her relationships with Javert and Enjolras.  
_

**Quatre**

Jacqueline looked up, and she raised her glass of ale to Enjolras like the rest of the students in the room. Gavroche had just come into the cafe and announced the death of General Lamarque, the end of a man with sympathy for the Parisians. Enjolras had shouted, "_Viva La Revolution_!" and the students had erupted in approval, raising their glasses.

It was around two o'clock in the morning when Enjolras walked down the stairs on the cafe to the downstairs shop with Jacqueline. She prayed that Javert would be either on duty or asleep when she got back to their apartment back near Notre Dame. She couldn't even think of an excuse to give him or a reason why she had been out if he caught her coming back into her room.

Enjolras took her hand and the two ran through the dark streets of Paris, Jacqueline laughing, geuninely happy. She held the bottom of her dress up with one hand as they ran, hand in hand. She had never felt freer. It was cold and dark, but being with Enjolras was enough. He made the night bright and comforting. They ran through the streets until they reached the steps of Notre Dame, where Enjolras stopped and brought her into him.

"In my life," Jacqueline sighed, "There's been no one like you, anywhere. Anywhere you call for me, I'll be there. You have made me happier than I've ever known. You free me."

He held her waist, bringing her in and kissing her gently. Jacqueline grinned and kissed his lips. As the cold winter winds chilled their bones, Enjolras smiled at her. Their noses touched, and Enjolras put a hand to her cheek, and murmured, "I was born to be with you."

She smiled and kissed him deeply, then looked up to him, "You make me feel free, Enjolras." Her eyes searched his face, "No one's ever made me feel that way. With you, I am free."

"I figured that, by the way they order you around. I saw you in the carriage the other day after the protest." Enjolras confessed, pushing a strand of blond hair behind her ear, "You don't have to be who they want you to be, you know. You _are_ free."

Jacqueline's eyes were glassy, and a tear streaked down from her right eye and hit her lips. He smiled at her.

She looked up to the clock on the tower nearby; it neared three o'clock, and Jacqueline knew that if she didn't return home now, Javert would definitely find out about her sneaking out after dark. She didn't want to fight with him again, she loved him and hated it when he got angry. When he was angry or irritated, it was relentless fighting, and not to mention that Jacqueline thought he gave a hell of a glare and his voice went right through her if he yelled.

Jacqueline grabbed Enjolras's wrist and ran with him across the street to the ivy covered home that her and Javert shared; she carefully and quietly went to the back with him and stopped there, standing against the thick ivy-covered house.

"In my life, I have never met someone like you." Enjolras said quietly, searching her eyes.

He pressed her up against the ivy and kissed her as she laid up against it. She put her hands on the back of his head during the kiss, and he linked his arms around her hips. They retreated back from the ivy-covered wall and Enjolras held Jacqueline's hand. He kissed it, then letting it slip out of his grasp.

"Goodnight, Enjolras." Jacqueline said in a whisper, looking at him as the stars glittered above.

"Must you go?" He asked, a small smile on his face.

"My father will know I'm gone," Jacqueline said quickly, "And trust me, it's not going to be good if he finds out. He's, um...very _against_ the protests."

Enjolras looked amused, "Who's your father? A general? A government official? It can't be_ that_ bad."

"My father is the Inspector." Jacqueline confessed, "And he will never let me out of his sight if he finds out what's happened tonight, Enjolras. But it doesn't matter. I love you, and I haven't lived until today."

"How can I live if we are parted? If that's at risk, I'll see you again." Enjolras kissed her one last time, stepping back from her and smiling, "Goodnight, Jacqueline."

* * *

Jacqueline quietly tip-toed into the kitchen, closing the door behind her and pressing her body against it. She bit her lip and looked up with a smile, blushing. She was always introduced to men who were stuck-up soldiers or men who didn't care about her opinion because she didn't seem to matter.

With Enjolras, he let her be what she wanted. She felt so free and appreciated with him. She felt her heart beating, throbbing in her chest, hitting her ribcage. She took a deep breath, and she quietly tip-toed through the kitchen, to the foyer and to the staircase.

She stopped when she saw Javert standing at the top of the staircase. He must have just come back from his patrol, because he still was clad in his uniform.

"I was just getting some air." Jacqueline said, and Javert came walking down the stairs. He stopped a step before her. She bit her lip, looking up at him worriedly.

"Can we talk a minute, darling?" Javert asked, running a hand through her hair gently, looking at her with his gentle, kind eyes. Jacqueline smiled, remembering when he did that when she was younger. She missed the relationship they'd once had. They were still exceedingly close—always—but Jacqueline felt as though their views on the world had somewhat chipped away at the loving father-daughter relationship that they had from the start, from when he found her at the age of two.

"Of course." She said, looking lovingly up at him.

"I've been hard on you," Javert said, clearing his throat, "And I know you don't quite understand why yet, but you just need to know, Jacqueline, that I only speak against what the rebels say because I care about you, and what they say is against the law. I want you to be safe. Those schoolboys will be vulnerable in the street, surrounded by my men and much more. They don't stand a chance."

Jacqueline's eyes were brimming with tears.

"In my life," Javert murmured, not looking at her, "You have made it that much more beautiful. You need to understand that I couldn't go on if I lost you."

Jacqueline stopped fighting back tears, and they escaped her red-rimmed eyes and she smiled up at Javert. She never wanted to ever disappoint him, to make him feel ashamed of her. She wanted nothing but Javert to be proud of her, but she felt a horrible feeling of guilt in her for what she was doing.

She thought of everything he had done for her in the years that he cared and raised her. She looked down, tears falling as she did so.

Javert lifted her chin up gently, cupping it in his hand. She looked up at him, and he put his hand to the side of her face, brushing away her tear. Jacqueline put her hand over his, smiling up at him.

"In my life, you have been a friend and father," Jacqueline sighed, still smiling up at him, searching his eyes, "A man who's taught me to live, raised me to be a young woman, and loved me. In my life, you've been more than I could have ever wanted. You have made me into what I am now, in front of you."

She embraced him, the wet tears hitting his navy blue uniform that he wore. He held her, and Jacqueline thought back on how fortunate she was that he had taken her under his wing, that he had raised her and not left her to an orphanage when she was young. She remembered everything he'd taught her, how much she'd learned, how loved she felt.

It was in that instant when she felt unbearable, staggering guilt when she realized she was stabbing Javert in the back.

**Reviews would be awesome!**


	5. Cinq

_I apologize for the long wait! I hate writer's block!  
__Please review and let me know what you think! Thank you!_

**Cinq**

Jacqueline snuck back to the cafe to be with Enjolras and prepare for revolution. She knew that Javert was planning to infiltrate the barricade, and that he was set in his ways in shutting down the uprising. She didn't tell Enjolras of her suspicions, in fear that he would hunt out her adoptive father. The ABC Cafe was crowded with Enjolras's supporters, young students and poor citizens of Paris who were sick of being treated badly by the higher-ups of the French city. Jacqueline stuck out amongst them, but none of them seemed to care as long as she was in it to rebel. She was the poor little rich girl rebelling against her social status, but Enjolras made it a priority to include her.

Jacqueline smiled at Enjolras grabbed her hand and kissed her on the cheek.

He, the leader of the students, rallied up the revolutionists, getting everyone excited. Outside the cafe on the cobble stones streets, Enjolras patted his friends on the back in encouragement. Everyone seemed to love him, the courageous young leader of freedom. Jacqueline was proud to be in love with a headstrong young man like him, and held his hand tightly as he touched based with everyone as he entered the crowded cafe, which was crowded with his supporters. Enjolras pulled her through the thick crowd and brought her to the top step of the old, rickety staircase with him, the couple together, looking out to the massive group of revolutionists.

"Will you join in our crusade, who will be strong and stand with me?" Enjolras yelled, "Somewhere beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?"

The crowd erupted in approval, cheering on Enjolras, who looked so happy and proud of himself and the impending revolution. As everyone cheered, he turned and pressed his lips to Jacqueline's. She returned it by wrapping her arms around his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her hips. As the two kissed, deep down Jacqueline knew that what was happening was exactly what Javert had predicted.

Two young star-crossed lovers, ripped apart by the violence of the uprising. It was inevitable.

He brought her up the stairs, where he brought her to the window. Outside, Parisians waved French flags and looked up to the cafe with pride and faith.

The revolution was really happening.

Later that afternoon, Jacqueline took Enjolras back to her and Javert's house near Notre Dame.

Jacqueline tip-toed into the house, followed by Enjolras, and she called out, "Dad? Dad, are you home?"

The large house was empty. Jacqueline figured that Javert was out on patrol, and that bringing Enjolras inside would be fine. Her father wasn't home, and he would never find out. Jacqueline could only imagine what would happen if Javert was to find the leader of the uprising in his house with his daughter. Jacqueline shook away the thought, and brought Enjolras inside.

He kissed her as the two stumbled up the stairs playfully. Jacqueline laughed lightly, running up the stairs. Enjolras called after her, "Jacqueline, come here!"

She laughed and ran upstairs and into the hallway. Enjolras followed her banteringly, and he chased her into her bedroom. Her bedroom window was open, and the setting sun hit in between the two towers of Notre Dame in the window as Enjolras grabbed her and kissed her. Jacqueline never loved anyone more than him. He was everything she had ever wanted, and more. She was hopelessly in love with him, but feared that their affair would end in violence and death in the barricade. She knew Javert was right.

As they kissed through the setting sun of Paris, Enjolras murmured, "Lovely lady, I'll love you until I'm dead."

Jacqueline let out a sad smile and searched his stressful eyes, "I love you. You free me."

He searched her eyes, and kissed her, pressing his mouth to her own. They collapsed onto Jacqueline's bed. She lay flat on her back as Enjolras kissed her, and she held onto his neck and returned the affection. He had both of his palms flat on the bed on either side of the bed, kissing her passionately. Whilst the kissing deepened, Enjolras put his hand on her thigh and worked his way up, beginning to push up the ends of Jacqueline's dress. She let him do it, and they continued kissing. But before anything could begin to happen, the large wooden door flung open. Jacqueline gasped, loudly, as she saw Javert standing in the doorway.

He stood there, tall and brawny and intimidating as always. He wore his black inspector's uniform. His expression was irritated and mad, glaring at Enjolras, who had instinctively sprung up and off of Jacqueline as soon as he heard the door yank open. Jacqueline sprung up next to Enjolras, holding his hand. Javert held his sword at his side, and proceeded to raise it to Enjolras.

"Javert!" Enjolras gasped.

"Get out of my house." He snapped, "You and your God forsaken revolutionary ideas. Get away from my daughter and get away from my house."

"Dad, I…" Jacqueline tried.

"Be quiet, Jacqueline." Javert replied coldly, and kept his eyes on Enjolras, "Get out."

Enjolras looked to Jacqueline, silently telling her he had no other choice. He kissed Jacqueline, and glared at Javert and walked out of the room. Javert glared coldly at Jacqueline, sliding his sword back in it's holster, as they heard Enjolras's footsteps storm down the stairs and out the door.

Jacqueline looked at her father, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. She ran after Enjolras, but Javert caught her with his arm and held her against his chest. She cried, and said to Javert, "You're a monster."

"I'm _not_," Javert said, releasing her. He raised his voice, "I strictly told you not to meet up with that boy again!"

"I love him!" Jacqueline wailed, tears streaking down her face, "Why can't you see that? Where is the compassion that you used to have? The compassion in the man that helped that scared little girl in the ransacked apartment so many years ago?"

"He's still here." Javert snapped, coming closer to her with a finger pointed at her. "What happened to you? Never you would've disobeyed me, Jacqueline! What's happened to my daughter? Joining these schoolboys for a revolution? What have I taught you? Where have I gone wrong?"

"It's what I believe in! I should have a say in that!" Jacqueline protested, tears escaping her eyes, "Why can't you understand?"

"I understand just fine. You, young lady, will never see that boy again. He will lead you to your death. Do you really think I want that? To fight against you and see you dead on the barricade?" Javert roared.

"No!" Jacqueline snapped back, "But why won't you let me believe what I believe? Because you're afraid of what everyone else will think? The Inspector's daughter, the rebel?"

"No, I'm afraid to lose you! And I've told you this!" Javert shouted, "I will not let some silly schoolboy and a meaningless revolution rip you away from me. I know more than you think, Jacqueline. I've been around much longer than you. So please believe me when I say this will end in nothing but sadness if you are to be with that boy any longer."

Jacqueline looked down to her feet, tears streaking down her cheeks. She knew he was right.

Later that night, Enjolras kept thinking about the revolution, the barricade, and Jacqueline. All across Paris the French were preparing for the next day, the beginning of the revolution. Enjolras and the students were preparing the weapons. Marius joined the students, Eponine prepared herself to blend in with the boys. While her friends prepared, Jacqueline stood and watched as Javert briefed his own soldiers. All she could think about was Enjolras, and all Enjolras could think about was Jacqueline.

"One day more 'til revolution. We will nip it in the bud," Javert announced as he walked down the aisle between the endless rows of soldiers in the government hall. "We'll be ready for these schoolboys, they will wet themselves with blood."

Jacqueline watched her adoptive father, filled with hate for these boys, for the boy she loved. She wondered why he was so against the ideas of others.

"We will join these people's heroes, we will follow where they go." Javert said, "We will learn their little secrets, we will know the things they know! We'll be ready for these schoolboys!"

On the other side of Paris, Enjolras looked out the window and thought of her, thought of how the revolution was going to go, how to could end the two of them.

"Tomorrow we'll be far away, tomorrow is the judgement day," Jacqueline whispered under her breath. She looked to Javert as he addressed his soldiers.

"Tomorrow we'll discover what our Lord in heaven has in store!" Javert said, standing in front of the endless rows of soldiers.

"One more dawn, one more day. One day more!"


End file.
